The King and the Bastard
by redroom20
Summary: Bash and Francis talk about Mary after her arrival in Court.


Sebastian looked ahead at the lake. The sunset was mirrored in the clear water and the trees surrounding the surface made for a fantastic view. He spotted him easily enough. The blonde head and the lanky body of his half-brother.

His life at court had taught him many things. Mainly the wide spectrum of human characters. From the saints to the absolute foul. He had seen time and time again how people were corrupted by greed and lust, how they were consumed by their own distorted perception of themselves. He had tried to stay away from it. Away from the politics and the manipulations at court.

All of these realizations had made him have a new appreciation for his younger brother. While he had the choice to escape that viper's nest they called a court, Francis never had that luxury. He was born by duty and was bred with the sense of it. Since he was five years old they had drilled into him what he was, what that meant, the weight that was placed on his shoulders. And while Bash marveled at the hours Francis spent locked inside stuffy and dusty rooms with tutors of Diplomacy, Politics, Geography, History, Poetry, French, Latin, Greek and many, many other subjects collected in huge volumes and in the minds of incredibly dull men. Then there were dancing lessons, riding and fencing and formal balls and Royal Visits. If he had free time, he would accompany his father in a strategic meeting or his mother in audiences with the people.

The advantages that came with his position were more obvious. Wealth and power being the main ones. If Francis walked into a room, everyone would bow. If he addressed someone, they would respond the only acceptable way: with great humility and respect. He was superior to almost everyone by birth. He was their future King, their Liege Lord. Anything Francis wanted would be handed to him before he'd finished asking for it. He could have any woman he wanted. The lowest prostitute in the brothel or the highest born girl. It would be their honor to sleep with the Dauphin. A perk Francis had enjoyed only in the past few months. Not that his title was all that necessary. His angelic good looks and charming personality could make girls swoon even if he was a smith's son.

The only thing that didn't add up with Francis was his heart. A boy raised to think he was the most important man in France, delivered by God to rule millions, the son of a cruel, bloodthirsty mother and a greedy, lust driven father would be expected to turn out a monster. Yet Francis was the exact opposite. Kind, compassionate, empathetic. Intelligent and mature.

Considering everything, that was the thing Bash was most grateful for. Besides his mother, Francis was his closest family. He loved him and would die for him if he had to. After all, to save a King like him, a bastard's life seemed like a decent trade.

He approached him and Francis turned, sensing his presence.

"What a day."

The prince didn't reply.

"You can't pretend to be unaffected. It's not everyday you meet your future wife."

"Possible future wife."

Bash chuckled.

"Well, I was hoping that your reservations would fade away now that you've seen her. She's quite a beauty."

"I am your future ruler. If you had any sense, you would hope for my judgment not to sway at the sight of pretty face."

This time Bash outright laughed.

"No one has ever accused me of having too much sense. I have always been the impulsive one of the two."

Francis' gaze drifted towards the lake.

"You were the only one with the option to be impulsive."

"Cheer up Francis. Stop over analyzing this and tell me what you think of her. As one brother to another. No alliances, no strategies, no political significance. Just a boy talking about a girl."

Francis laughed at that.

"That is an expression I'm hearing a lot today." He said cryptically ."She truly is beautiful." He said at last.

"Hallelujah. The boy admits the painfully obvious." But Francis continued as if he hasn't heard him.

"She's just like I remember her. Even the parts I thought I had imagined over time. The wildness, the intelligence, the teasing. I had forgotten how she made me feel. Like I'm standing on burning coals and yet don't have the desire to move. And now she's also beautiful."

Francis stopped talking and kept staring at the lake while his brother was staring at him open mouthed. How like Francis, to feel so deeply and bury it all beneath a mask of duty and formality. What Bash thought to be a half hearted confirmation of the girl's looks turned into a confession of something far deeper.

He had to admit Francis was right. Mary was far more than just beautiful. He had his own strange sensations when she was near, though he didn't want to dwell too much on them. Falling for a Queen was the worst thing he could do. Especially a Queen meant for his brother.

"Maybe the alliance won't break." He said at last, though half heartedly.

Francis looked at him then.

"You say that like it's what I'm supposed to want. Scotland is a quicksand. What if England is threatened by our union? What if they attack them? Worse, what if they attack France? This alliance is nothing but the culmination of our father's lifelong ambition, at a great risk for all of us. It's a bad alliance for our people. One I shouldn't want."

"But you do."

Francis didn't respond.

"I am a King. Every man, woman and child in this country is affected by my choices. All those lives can be better or worse based on my actions now and in the future. That kind of responsibility… it drowns me Bash. I don't want to be like our father. I want to be something better for our people. Something I don't know if it is possible to be. A good and just ruler."

"You will be." Bash said with certainty.

Francis smiled.

"Then stop pestering me about pretty girls that can bring about the end of France."

Bash laughed and ruffled his brother's hair.

"Oh Mary, you beautiful damnation."

Francis rolled his eyes and ducked under his brother's hand, heading towards the castle.


End file.
